He is also a very keen angler, having come back to the sport in 1995 following a break of several years. In this regular column he will tell us about his progress as an angler – his thoughts about the sport, what he learns, the fishing trips he makes, the anguish, the humour, in fact everything he experiences as his angling career develops. | ||||||
OH I DO LIKE TO BE BESIDE THE SEA-SIDE Vacations – don’t we just love them? They have been part of the British way of life for generations now. Even in the days before the concept of leisure time became an ingrained part of our culture, when the working day was literally from first light till way into the evening, a break away from the normal routine was something that the majority tried to take once during the year.
Nowadays, of course, it’s true that we’ve never had it so good. The annual break (which is often taken abroad) is usually supplemented by a host of other accompanying periods of time when we go into holiday mode – the British holiday, the weekend breaks, and so on. (Not to mention the fishing holidays!) This summer, as a family we had been offered the use of a holiday home in the county of Dorset, by some friends. Of course, we didn’t need our arms twisting, and so our plans had been made well in advance. As the home is not a holiday let, it gave us more flexibility over the usual Saturday to Saturday arrangements. Hence we planned to stay from the first Friday in August. But before we left, I took my youngest daughter Miriam to Molineux, the home of Wolverhampton Wanderers. (I’m a season ticket holder by the way). It was the time of the year when the club has its annual team photo shoot, and coinciding with the launch of the new shirt, they had decided to make it an open day. With face painters, clowns (none on the pitch, you have to go to West Brom to find those!) and the club mascots, Wendy and Wolfie in attendance it was a good morning out.
Anyway, when we got home, we loaded the car and set off for the journey south. As we were staying on the coast, it was time to dust down the sea gear. Living as far as I do from salt water, any sea fishing session that I make is usually something that I do when I’m at the coast for something else, such as a meeting or a vacation.
But, of course, I wasn’t here for the collecting of stone relics, I was here for the fishing. The place we stayed at was not only magnificent – our friends have done well for themselves – but it was only a minute or two from the beach, built on a private road. This meant that we didn’t have to compete with the crowds and the demand for parking spaces. And, my wife Debby, being the good woman she is, gave me a carte blanche to go fishing every day if I wanted to. So, of course, I did! But having said that, if you added all my fishing time together during the week, it was less than a good ‘into the dark session’ on the lower Severn. Being so close to the beach, I timed my trips to coincide with the tides and so more often than not only had a couple of hours fishing. Arriving on the Friday, a visit to the local tackle shop meant I had a good supply of ragworm. Ragworm (and lugworm) are the equivalent of the coarse angler’s maggot. There are specialised baits such as peeler crab, squid and so on, but for general sea fishing when all you want to do is catch fish, regardless of size, worms take some beating.
As darkness came proper, so did the pouting. It was a bite every cast, I ended up with six fish in total, before trudging back to the house. The next night I returned to the same spot and opened my account with a plaice. Flatfish are my favourite sea fish. I’ve caught dab, flounder and plaice, but without a doubt these are the fish I will target when sea fishing. Again, as darkness hit the beach, the pouting came on the feed, this time I caught nine of them. I took a flask of tea with me each night to the beach. As I drank, I felt what I thought were tea leaves in my mouth – you know what I mean, when the tea bag bursts. Anyway I continued for a while, not even bothering to spit the leaves out, just chewing them. But as they seemed to be never ending I decided I needed to try and filter them out. Shining my headtorch into the cup I discovered dozens of little sand insects had invaded the drink. Ah well, I’m sure they’re quite nutritious. And I am still alive, with no obvious side effects as of yet!
But nevertheless I improvised and decided to fish the estuary, touch legering. Debby and Miriam bought their crab lines along and we had a contest! I caught two eels, but Miriam won with four! It was fun and so the next night I decided to have another go, this time catching a solitary eel.
Next Thursday it’s back into coarse fishing mode, so read all about my latest trips after Mr Whiskers. But as well as the usual barbel captures to report, read how I met up with my very own former Soviet citizen on the banks of the Severn! It’s not called ‘From Russia with love’ and it’s definitely not ‘The spy who loved me’. But join me next Thursday when I tell ‘MORE TALES FROM THE SEVERN AND THE DOVE’. The Reverend Stewart R Bloor Pilgrim’s Progress – read it every Thursday! |
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